


he says he's hard (but he crumbles like nabisco)

by zanewritessometimes



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftercare, But He's Not Being Called It, Canon Typical Violence, Case Work, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Don't read if it's not your thing, F/M, Fluff, Hotch Deserves His Subspace, Hotch Has a Daddy Kink, Hotch Likes to be Pampered, Hurt/Comfort, If you aren't big on consent please re-evaluate your views on literally everything, Jack just likes new friends man, Jack!, Jesus Christ Include Aftercare Even In Fics You Mongrels, Large age gap, Like Seriously 30 years, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Smut, Soft BDSM play, Soft Dom Reader, Sub Aaron Hotchner, Thanks, This is now a Whole Thing, Use of the word whore, Vaginal Sex, almost car sex, because it's important, bodies are bodies, body appreciation/acceptance, domme reader, fem reader - Freeform, god I love jack, god i love domestic fluff, he deserves it, non sexual dominance, not in sexual way, reader is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25608418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanewritessometimes/pseuds/zanewritessometimes
Summary: You get pulled into a case- while helping, you're intrigued by the head of the team. Strong, resilient, tough... but there's a nagging part of you that says that it's all a facade.Aaron Hotchner is doing his best to get through this case- but now there's a girl involved, and there's a really inconvenient part of him that wants to drop to his knees.find me/request fics on-tumblr- pennemactwitter- zaneisdumb (sfw) or prettyboysbeg (nsfw)
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Reader, Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Comments: 29
Kudos: 196





	1. you don't wanna see me bratty

Let's face it, when you walk into a bar, underage, at 11pm, tensions are already high. The bass of whatever song is playing thunders through the probably sticky floor, through your shoes, and into your chest. It's not a bad feeling though, in fact, you live for it, the tension and the rush. 

But, you aren't stupid. What you're doing is illegal. You're newly 20, not 21. So, when you approach a table that seems to be empty, and sit for one of the only times of the night, you scan the room. There's a gaggle of girls to your immediate left, only dancing with fellow girls. Smart. In front of you, many people are dancing, even more of them are drunk. Pass them, though, and there's a bar. You aren't planning on drinking, anyway. Not here, not when you wouldn't be able to keep tabs on where your drink was at all times. 

You'd dressed for a party- a button up rolled up to your sleeves, open down your chest, ensuring that enticing skin was showing, paired with slim pants- but not clubbing. You honestly hadn't even been planning to go to a club, but after dealing with your right bitch of a sister in law all night, you felt as though you deserved to maybe not go home alone. 

Almost as soon as you go to stand up, you spot a group of three men. They're all in suits, and two seem to be around the same age, the other looks older. You watch them, grimacing when one pulls out a badge and you clock the guns on their hips. Shit. 

They seem to be questioning young looking people in the club. You happen to be of that group, but as you look over the bouncers by the door- they aren't letting anyone out. 

Fuck. You lean back in the booth that you're in, eyes rolling. The last thing you'd wanted to do was talk to men who wanted too much information. Much less men who wanted too much information that were also federal agents. You pull out your phone, sending a text to a friend that if you didn't return home to your shared apartment tonight, you'd been either murdered or arrested. 

A simple "unsurprising." is all you get back. You snort and then look back up to where the men had been. You only see two of them, now talking to separate people. 

"Hello. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Do-" 

"Jesus fuck man! You sneak up on everybody you talk to or just college girls in clubs?" 

He's standing to your left, and a corner of your mouth up turning when you see that you and he are actually dressed fairly similarly, but your white button up isn't pressed, you're not wearing a tie, and the buttons certainly aren't done up all the way. 

His lips are pressed together in stress, maybe annoyance. "No. I didn't intend to scare you, just ask a couple questions and give a little information in return." You're confident tonight- more than usual. Your eyes wander up and down his body. He's physically fit- you just know, it's clear in how he holds himself. It's also clear that he's at the top, and always. His arms crossed, his face tired but stern, fingers ringless… that note is unrelated, nevertheless satisfying. 

"Well, agent. I'm sitting right here then. Ask away." 

He pulls out a chair, settling into it like he's going to be pushed out of it at any moment. You snort and cross your arms again. "How often do you frequent this club?" 

You run your hands over your pants. "I don't know, really. I pretty much only go to this one, though." 

He takes that and runs with it. "Makes sense, they don't card at the door, and you look too young to have gotten in here legally." 

Well, you never said he'd ran in the wrong direction. "Considering I'm sitting here talking to an FBI agent, I'm not gonna confirm that." 

Agent Hotchner runs a hand through his hair. "I'm only pointing it out because there's a chance you've had contact with a man we're looking for, and if you have, you could be in danger." 

That makes the smile drop from your face. You were always careful with who you'd interacted with, and the prospect that you could have made a mistake didn't exactly sound nice. "Who?" 

He drops the hand from his hair. "We're not sure yet. To be blunt, do you take people home often…" 

You flinch back a bit, affronted. "y/n y/l/n, and… occasionally. But I don't live alone, and I'm… above the age of consent." 

He nods, hands moving to push aside an empty glass. "He would've been pushy. His personality would've been dominant but eventually fallen away into submission, probably aligned with how he was in bed." 

You laugh a bit out of nervousness. "Full disclosure, agent, that's all of the men I decide to take home. I'm not… easily pushed around." 

A red tint has most definitely dusted across your face. You'd know this man for all of a minute, and you'd just essentially admitted to not only taking men home, but being a domme, and seeking out brat personality types. 

The agent just continues talking, taking your answer in stride. "He would've tried very hard to take you back to his place, and if he did get you there his house would've been meticulously cleaned. He would've gotten upset if there'd been a mess made, probably insisting that you shower after, changing the sheets, immediately washing clothes…" 

That honestly sounded fairly familiar. In fact, startlingly so. The first time you'd had a one night stand, that's how it had gone. He'd convinced you to go with him, and had, in fact, made you shower immediately afterwards, even after being… open to getting a little messy during. 

"I mean… it sounds familiar, but that was… months ago. It's the only time I've ever gone home with someone else. But his house was very clean, I tried to help him afterwards, prevent…" you pause, and trail off, deciding to steer away from the d/s terminology. "He made me shower, and when I'd gotten out the sheets were changed and he'd put my clothes in the wash… I waited until they were dry to leave. He was a bit weird, I didn't stay overnight." 

He seems more alert now, nodding as you speak. "Is there a chance that you remember what he looks like? My team and I would really value your help, if you'd come back with me." 

You're hesitant, thumb worrying nervously against the button of your pants. "Not until I know what me hooking up with a neat freak has to do with anything, and a bit more of an explanation on how I might be in danger." 

You can tell he hadn't wanted to give up that information yet. When he talks, it's hesitant, but matter of fact. "The man we're looking for is sleeping with people- of all genders, legal ages, and races. It's almost normal the first time, but then he approaches them already having their trust, sometime in the months after, taking them home again, and killing them. The way he… there's signs, in the murder scenes that allude to obsessive cleanliness behaviors. There's been 4 known victims so far, and based on his timeline… he's due for another soon. We've been trying to get anyone he's come into contact with out of harm's way, and it seems like you're one of them." 

Jesus. Well, on one hand, you didn't have to go back with him and his team. On the other hand, it would probably be safer for you, and if you could contribute to keeping others from being killed… "Yes. I'll come back with you." 

His hand and eyes fall to a watch wrapped around his left wrist. "I'll need to check with the other members of my team and ensure they haven't come into contact with anyone else he may have taken home, or tried to. Follow me, please." 

He stands back up now, extending a hand to you so you can pull yourself to stand. You only realise now that you should probably at least sort of button up your top, after all, you weren't wearing a bra, just nipple covers, (because you may be hot, but nobody likes a nip-slip) and much of your chest was exposed. It was unbuttoned nearly to the bottom of your ribcage, shirt tucked into skin hugging black pants. 

He's walking before you can reach to do it though, and then you're meeting another agent, who declines your outstretched hand with an apologetic smile. "I have a germ thing. I'm Doctor Spencer Reid." 

Before you can introduce yourself in return, the other man from earlier walks up to the three of you. "You have got a lot of trust in that shirt, girl." You scoff, looking down at your exposed skin with a smile. "Gotta let the people know I'm available somehow." 

He laughs a bit, stretching his hand out to you before you get the chance. "Derek Morgan. You?" 

You roll your bottom lip into your mouth thoughtfully. Thank god someone could have a sense of humor in the pursuit of a serial killer. After introducing yourself to both agents, you turn back to where the agent from before is standing. Agent Hotchner, if you remembered correctly. 

He looks tired, his arms crossed across his chest. You let yourself run your eyes over his figure again, once again. Whether it was the daddy issues or the low club lights- he looks good for someone clearly old enough to have fathered you. 

He gives a nod to the men and they take it as a cue to leave, so, clearly his subordinates. You'd guessed right. 

When you get into the back of the car, you're accompanied by Derek, who's much easier to talk to than either of the other agents. He strikes up a conversation about something trivial but works in important questions. 

"Ah, yea! It is weird that it feels like it's been so many years… how old were you when it came out, anyway?" 

"Only 5? Maybe. Hey. We weren't even… god you're good." It comes out exasperated, with the hint of a smile.

He takes it as an invitation to keep talking.

"So you're 19? 20?" 

You nod before you clarify. "20. Newly." 

In the dark of the car, you see him shift and bring one leg over the other. As you glance up to the driver's seat, which Hotchner is sitting in, you can tell he's listening in, probably a smart decision. 

"What's a 20 year old doing in a club at 11:30 on a Tuesday?" 

He sounds like he's genuinely curious, so you give him an honest answer. 

"My brother had an engagement party, and I hadn't even known those were a thing until about a week ago. I went and then had to deal with his fiance, and I mean they're good for each other, but she still seems to think I'm a threat. So I spent all night in a room full of uncomfortable tension, and I decided I needed the stress relief." 

You see him nod, and then hear the Doctor speak from the passenger seat. "But you weren't drinking or dancing, so…" 

You nod, barely containing a laugh. "Ah, I was thinking more along the lines of not going home alone tonight, but- hey, I guess I'm glad I didn't try." 

A silence fell in the car, leaving you to your own thoughts. You didn't take people home that often, tonight was honestly a rare one, where you'd gone in with the intention of pulling someone for the night. It probably sounded like you did, though, and you consider clarifying, but then you remember that you probably shouldn't be that worried about it. 

You settle back into the seat, the seat belt digging into your collarbone making you minorly uncomfortable. You're glad that you'd opted for a basic pair of white tennis shoes, rather than heels, and that you'd been able to grab your backpack with emergency toiletries and a change of clothes in it from your car. 

Your eyes wander as you sit, but keep wandering over to the agent in the driver's seat. He hasn't even said that much to you, or even done anything to make you think that he'd be into you, but… jesus. 

The air around him was staticky but just as inviting. You're sure that if he were to touch you there'd be goosebumps skittering across your skin in response. Running your tongue over your teeth, you reach into you bag for your water bottle, taking a much needed drink before tossing it back in. 

When you look back up, you meet Hotchner's split second glance back at you. Your hand finishes it's job where it was zipping up your bag, which sits at your feet.

For as much as Aaron Hotchner seemed tired, and like he wanted to find this guy and be over with it, he was doing a damn good job of distracting you from even being able to think about it.


	2. pet the kitty call me catty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was going to be one chapter but I decided to split in instead because it got way too long! so... here's this :)

Arriving at the BAU headquarters, as you'd had explained to you, is fairly uneventful. 

As you exit the elevator, you're greeted by a bubbly blonde, dressed in a sparkly dress and extravagant accessories. She's sweet and rejects your held out hand in favor of a hug, introducing herself as Penelope Garcia, technical analyst. 

She walks with you all now into the main office area, where you're greeted by two more women. They both greet you normally, and you feel the black haired girl, Emily, run her eyes over you. Interesting. 

You're quickly all gathered in a singular room by Agent Hotchner to discuss what had been found out. You're greeted by graphic pictures detailing the crime scenes. The stab wounds on each of the bodies are in the same spots, one through the chest, another through the belly button, each slender knife left forcefully in the left ear. 

There should be more blood- a lot of it, actually, but it's all been cleaned up, and the people in the photos have their hands resting at their sides, legs straight. 

You only manage to tear your eyes away when you're asked a question by a new man, who'd walked into the room a few moments late. He identifies himself as Rossi.

"Y/n, can you walk us through what happened the night he took you home with him? It may be crucial to figuring out where he is." 

You run a hand over the back of your neck, but nod, grateful you'd all taken seats. "It was the first time I'd ever, well… had a one night stand?" 

You end it with a question, unsure whether or not it was a good idea to divulge specifics. A small internal battle later, you decide it's best and that they could use all the information you had. "No, actually, it wasn't. It was the first time I agreed to go somewhere outside of a bdsm club to scene. He introduced himself to me with a pair of initials. It was m.l. I didn't push further than that, as long as he was clean and consenting, I could understand not wanting to give away your real name for a one time scene." 

Spencer at this point is the first one to speak, his hands anxiously tapping at the table as he thought. "Was there anything about his personality that stuck out? Anything you found out of the ordinary?" 

Your eyes dark around the room, still not exactly keen on divulging all of your private life to a room full of strangers. "Not… exactly. He wouldn't let me touch him sexually. I tried but he nearly colored out. I thought it was a bit odd, but I listened, of course. He didn't even really have interest in his own pleasure. And he was almost impenetrable in his brattiness, at one point I almost called it quits because it seemed like he didn't even want to submit" 

Jj takes an interest in this. "So he's probably impotent. Each time he takes someone new home, he doesn't actually have sex with them. He can't. But why exhibit submission in sexual encounters and then turn to murder? That's what doesn't make any sense." 

Her arms gesture around as she speaks, and surprisingly enough, it's Aaron who speaks next. "A submissive isn't actually giving up control. They hold most of the power, actually, with the ability to call it off at any moment. It's odd of course- he'd have to have trusted the people he's sleeping with enough to know they'd respect his decisions. But, it's probably a disguise. If someone has been submissive to you before, the last thing you would be suspecting from them is homicidal action." He thumbs fidget nervously against the rest of his fingers, and his eyes glance around the room. You notice that though they meet the other's eyes, they never come close to yours.

You nod along as he talks, glad you aren't receiving any weird looks. You speak up again when he stops. "I hadn't thought it seemed odd, plenty of people are service submissives, but it's rare, especially with men. Or... in my experiences, at least." 

For the first time then, Spencer speaks up. "If it's true that the submissiveness is a facade, then there's a good chance that he's been forced into the position before, so now he essentially resents those who take dominant roles, they remind him of that trauma. So he sleeps with them, can't achieve any sexual pleasure, and dwells over it until he reaches a breaking point. He snaps, finds them, and then stabs them. He cleans up afterwards, but it's not remorse. He feels as though he has to." 

They begin bouncing ideas back and forth, doing their best to deduce where he may be, after you describe what he'd looked like, to the best of your abilities. It's with a flush and a slight shudder that you realise the reason why it's so difficult to remember is because the most vivid memories of his face reside when it was between your legs. 

It would be hot, the prospect, if he hadn't murdered 4 people and possibly been searching for you. 

When you're finally allowed to leave the room to go change into more comfortable clothes, you're escorted by Hotch, who follows close behind you. He speaks gently, again. "Thank you for being so willing to give us so much information." 

He glances at his watch again. You take in his stance, and the way he seems to hesitate for you to reply to him before he speaks again. 

His eyes still haven't met yours again. "Agent Hotchner?" The way his eyes fall onto yours sends a tingle of satisfaction into your core. "I'm going to change my clothes before you take me back to my car." You can tell it's not quite what he'd wanted to hear, but he nods and tells you that he has plenty of time. 

As you step into the restroom, your bag in hand, you can't help it as your mind wanders. It starts out innocent, as most things do. Wondering how old he is, then to wondering if he has kids, then to how he spends his free time… it trails quickly into analyzing his actions tonight. 

You weren't a master of detecting when someone was into the same things as you, no one was, but you could tell that something about you had struck a nerve in the man. By the time you step out of the bathroom again, you've established a wonderful image of how he looks on his knees with his arms restrained behind his back. 

As you walk together out of the building, you start slow small talk. 

Opening a car door, probably his own, now, you ask if he's going home after taking you to your car. 

"Yes, I need the rest, and I think we've got enough of a lead that we can find him before he hurts anyone else." 

You nod, and then let the car lapse into silence. You're both not sitting in it for long, before you slowly raise your left hand, and bring it to settle over his thigh. You're watching carefully the whole time for signs of uncomfortability, and give him time to knock your hand away. The muscles there are tight, whether it be a result of being physically fit or anxious, you rub a thumb against them in small circles. 

"To run the risk of making inappropriate assumptions about a federal agent- you seemed to know what you were talking about back there, huh?" 

You get a shaky inhale, before it's blown out in a long gust of wind. "Y- yes. Sort of… I'm not…" He struggles to find the words already, and god you'd never been one for obedience without a little push and shove, but that in itself was so, so pretty. 

Your thumb stills. "Can I make an assumption about you, profiler? Turn the tables for a moment?"

In the dim light of the street lamps that line the town, you see him nod, hands gripping tight at the wheel. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but- You knew plenty about being in the shoes of a submissive. You wouldn't make eye contact with me until I prompted it. Now, you're already shaking apart and all I've done is put my hand on your leg and spoken to you as though you aren't a figure of authority." 

You take a pause as he turns the car, running your hand up his leg a tiny bit, just to move it back down, feeling the way his leg twitches and how he has to readjust his hands on the steering wheel. "So, what I think, agent, is that the reason you knew so much, is because you're either in the scene, want to be, or were. And that you're nothing like the bad guy you're chasing right now, because you, baby, barely take anything to give in. I could just..." 

Your hand trails back up slowly to his hip, never moving to touch him in a way that's explicitly sexual, both for teasing purposes and because you were big on verbal consent.

"... and you'd let me take you apart, wouldn't you?"

All you can hear are his shaky inhales, and his left hand drops from the wheel to turn on a turn signal. "I'm… yes. I- I would. But… you're so young and I just spent an hour talking to you about a murderer, I can't take advan-" 

You decide then and there to cut off his rambling. "You? Take advantage of me? I do hate to say it, but, there's no way. If anything, that's me." You make it clear that your voice is teasing but you mean it, a finger lacing into a belt loop in his pants. "But, if your only qualm is the worry that you're taking advantage of me… You aren't." 

He lets out a tense breath, and you can almost see another string of his resolve untangle in his brain. You withdraw your hand from where it rests. "So, am I right, then?" 

Aaron seems slightly taken aback, hands loosening their grip as he takes another turn. He hums and nods. "Awe, c'mon, confirm it out loud for me that I was right." 

His voice is small, but low and hesitant. "Yes… you're right." 

It brings a smile to your lips, and you run your hand back down his inner thigh. "Well, big bad agent, how easy would it be for me to make you beg for me to touch you? How long do you think it would take?" 

You watch his adam's apple bob heavily as he swallows loudly. He lets out a little frustrated noise- a whiny hum of acknowledgement, maybe. Your talking is clearly affecting him, so you don't stop. "Clearly not long. You seem so tense, baby." You tap your index and middle finger against the inner crease of his pants. "Do you want me to? To touch you, that is?" 

He shifts where he sits now, and if he didn't have to watch where his feet were and what they were doing, his thighs would certainly be pressed together with arousal. He's silent as he pulls into the soon to be closing bar that he'd brought you from, your car adjacent to his. 

Now that his hands don't need to be focusing on directing a vehicle, they move down to clench at the car's seat, doing a horrible job at hiding how turned on he is. 

"Mm… I do. I want you to touch me." 

You let him watch as you deliberately drop your gaze to the outline of his dick in his dress pants, fingers tracing up the inner seam, intentionally slow. 

His head tips back with frustration and hits the head rest with a small thump before he whimpers out a little, "Please?" 

It's enough to move your hand up where he needs it, running knuckles over the bulge in his pants. "All you had to do was ask." 

Light pressure has his hips raising to meet your hand, and you make the decision to unlatch your seatbelt to swing a leg over his, straddling his thighs. 

Not moving your left hand from where you cup him, you move one of his hands to rest at your hip, letting him take the memo to move the other one to match. 

His hands are warm and they tighten in your shirt as you lean over him, fingers coming to rest under his chin to tip his head so he's looking at you. 

The moment is like the pause before the final chorus of a song, or the break in a fight scene. The air trembles with slight anticipation, and it's quiet, except for Aaron's elevated breathing. 

You find his eyes in the dim light, smiling down at him. You have to be directly on your knees to have the height advantage, rather than settled on his lap, but it's worth it. 

"I need to know a couple things first, because I may be young, agent, but I'm sure as hell not an irresponsible domme." 

He nods with an edge of frantic want against your fingers, which are still placed under his chin, and you can feel light stubble there. "Alright. You're familiar with the color system?" 

His head nods in affirmation, hands relaxing at your sides ever so slightly. "Use it, if you need. You know I'll listen to it. Are there any names, phrases, or actions that I need to steer clear of?" 

After he shakes his head, his hands tentatively unfurl from your shirt and instead grip your sides, just above your hips. 

You take a moment to inspect the situation. You could either get him off here (you were too out in the open for anything more) or you could go to one of your homes and have… a considerably higher amount of fun. 

Aaron's breath stutters as you lean forward, dropping until your mouth was maybe an inch away from his. "I feel like we'd be much better off somewhere I can actually take my time. What do you think?" 

He struggles with an answer, impatient but wanting more than what probably be a rushed orgasm. "Yeah… It would be." 

Having to drive in separate cars in less than desirable, but it's much easier than having sex in a cramped car where you could be caught, though the idea isn't exactly horrible. 

You snake the hand that was rushing near his throat to the back of his neck, pulling him forward that final inch to collide your mouths, finally. His exclamation of surprise is cut off as he melts into it, letting you lead, because he's an easy, easy man. It does, in fact, bring goosebumps across your skin pleasurably. 

The brush of your tongue against his soft, though you can tell he's still impatient by the way he whimpers and his hips twitch to push himself against your hand. 

"My place? Yours?" 

You rarely ever went to peoples homes, it often made you feel unsafe, but you had a… good feeling so to speak. So when he answers "Mine." you go along with it. 

After telling him to drive home, and that you'd follow, you have to push his hands off of your sides, but ease it by pressing a few kisses against the side of neck as you clamber off of his lap, and out of the open door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to point out any spelling/ grammar errors! I overlook them in eagerness to write sometimes


	3. make your man call me daddy

You feel much less nervous than you should, putting your car into park behind a federal agent's in his driveway. 

Maybe it was the way he'd already been so sweet and willing to please. Maybe it was the comfortable knowledge that this man certainly (well… probably) wouldn't murder you. 

On the way out of your car you pull your bag onto your shoulder, then walk in the dark and quiet over to his. You pull open the door of the driver's side, where he sits as though he'd been contemplating something. 

"Having second thoughts?" 

He shakes his head, swinging a leg out of his car. "It's just been… a long time." 

You step back and take his hand to help him out of the car, shutting the door for him after checking that his keys are in his hand. "We'll go slow. I'll check in. It'll be okay, yeah? You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'm serious." 

He shakes his head, walking with you up to his front door. "Thank you. I- I want to." 

"Keep walking then, love." 

He complies, unlocking his door when he reaches it. When you walk in, you feel your heart warm a little. There's toys put neatly in a corner of the living room. There's a couple DVD cases of cartoons stacked next to the t.v. When you glance over to the fridge, you see children's drawings. Your brow furrows as you see a woman in one of them, but then you register the halo over her head and that she's pictured larger than the rest of them, in the foreground. Your heart breaks a little in realization. 

The picture is held up by brightly colored alphabet magnets and Aaron looks over at you as you view them. Before he can say anything, or maybe try to clarify something, you turn back to him. "You must have quite the little artist on your hands, huh?" 

You're glad that it elicits a smile and a nod rather than uneasiness at his child being mentioned. "He's with his aunt right now. He's… my favorite person to ever exist, I think." 

It feels natural. The moment is sweet, and all encompassing. It makes the lights in the room feel a little brighter when you pull him down for another kiss. 

His arms come down to encircle your waist, boosting you up onto the high top of the kitchen island. Breaking away with a smile, you give a small laugh. "Forgetting who's in charge, are we?" 

He shakes his head vehemently, still with the smile from before. "Nope. Better angles." 

Your hands lace into his hair as you pull him back to you again, letting his hands relax on your hips and then use them to balance himself as he kicks off his shoes and then pushes them to the outside of the island so they're out of the way. His lips don't break from yours, letting you effortlessly guide. 

The kiss is warm and sweet, albeit a bit messy. You can feel the stubble on his chin and the taste the coffee laced into his breath. You revel in the way he whimpers at slight tugs at his hair. 

You disconnect with a grin still painted across your face. "Let's get to a bedroom, hm?" He nods again, pulling you off of the counter and putting his hand in yours again. 

When you've both finally reached what seems to be the master bedroom, he walks slow so you can enter first and he can pull the door closed behind his back. 

Aaron stills as you walk forward to the bed, sitting on the end and kicking off your shoes towards the other side of the room carelessly. 

You stand again to walk forward towards where he's still standing, capturing him into another kiss, bringing his hands back to your waist. 

He slips his fingertips under the waistband of your pants, waiting there but grabbing your hips to have something to do with his hands. You have to disconnect to speak again.

"Take them off, then, petal." 

He gets a light grip on them but has to sink to his knees in front of you to pull them off entirely, planting a kiss at the top of your left thigh before he does. It's enticing, and so beautiful that it sends butterflies skittering into your stomach. 

You lift your legs off of the ground one by one to allow him to entirely pull off the material, walking backwards to the edge of the bed again and watching him follow without standing. When you're able to sit, you push yourself back a bit and stretch your hand out to grab a pillow. 

Shuffling back the edge, you set the pillow down at your feet, gesturing to it with an open hand, so his knees aren't just resting on hardwood. As pretty as bruised knees could be, it would probably leave the rest of his legs sore and his knees aching if you didn't change what his weight was settled on. 

"You're so pretty on your knees," you bring a hand into his hair, tangling it into the black strands. "Wonder how pretty your mouth would be on me… wanna let me figure it out?" 

His eyes are glassy with lust and his face becomes even more flushed as he nods, leaning forward to rest his face briefly against your inner thigh. His fingers run up both of your legs and under the elastic band of your underwear, tugging lightly at them until you raise your hips to allow him to pull them down your legs. As he wraps warm hands around each ankle to pull off your socks, you tug your own shirt off. 

You watch carefully as he kisses his way back up from your inner calve up to your knee, then up to the top of your thigh.

When he finally meets where you want to be, it's nearly a shock to your nervous system. It sends your muscles shuddering as he wastes no time finding your clit and then staying there deftly. 

"Jesus-" it's cut off by a moan and you bring your hand back to where it was in his hair, feeling as if it was sorely misplaced by your side. 

It elicits a groan from Aaron as his mouth doesn't let up from where his tongue moves up through sensitive folds just to turn his focus back onto the bundle of nerves to get more of a reaction. 

Your breath comes and goes in short gasps and exhales, hips twitching up occasionally from you're already sort of reclined to give him easier access. 

Heat quickly coils in your stomach and spreads throughout your body, pooling into your legs and arms, settling in fingertips and joints. Holding back a moan to speak, you pull harder than you had before at his hair. "'M gonna- holy shit Aaron-" 

He adds suction into where he's got lips wrapped around your clit and it's ultimately what sends you over, thinking about how unfair it is that he's so pretty and good for you already. Shocks of pleasure pulse through your belly and it's evident in the way you go silent instead of moan more, and in the way the muscles in your thighs jump at either side of his head. 

Once the final aftershocks have worked their way out of your system, you pull him away from your inner thighs, letting him wipe away spit and your arousal from his face before swooping down to kiss him, grateful for the way he doesn't shy away from reciprocating it before you pull away to talk again, running now soothing hands across his scalp. "You did so good, baby. So good at making me feel good." 

It's with a loving touch that you let him remain on his knees as you undo his tie enough to slip it over his head and then unbutton his shirt as much as you can before the angle is too awkward to continue. You make the decision to sit back from the edge of the bed and then indicate for him to join you, patting your thighs specifically. 

He stands hesitantly, not moving up to sit where you want him too yet. 

"What, just because you're bigger than me means you can't sit on my lap? Come here, love. Let me take care of you." 

He crawls up to meet you, slowly straddling your legs and settling his weight down while your hands go back to unbuttoning down his shirt, tugging it out from where it's tucked into his pants and sliding it off of his shoulders. He tenses when your hands meet his gun holster, but he forces a deep calm breath as if he's reassuring himself that you won't do harm with it. You press a kiss against his chest and then another to his shoulder as you unclip it from his waistband. "'M just taking it off, baby. Gonna set it with the rest of our clothes for now. That okay?" He nods and watches you toss it as gently as possible, still holstered, onto the pile of clothes and shoes on the floor.

When your hands move to unbuckle his belt you brush purposefully against the poorly concealed hard on that tents the black fabric of his pants, watching him twitch in response. After you've pulled his belt through the loops and tossed it aside where your own clothes lay, you hesitate with your hands on his pants button. 

"Color?" 

His breath is laboured still, and his hands come to touch yours but then pull away, almost as if he knows better. "Green, just, please? Please, y/n." 

He whimpers low in his chest when you drag his zipper down and then maneuver his pants and boxers off his hips, having him help you in the task that is working them down his long, toned legs and off of the bed. You give the same courtesy of taking off his socks, except your actions are accompanied by teasing touches to his thighs and hips. 

You make it seem as though you ignore the way his cock is angled up towards his tummy and practically begging for attention. It's flushed just as red as his face is, and it twitches when you run your hands back up and down his sides. 

When he's back in your lap, lips meet again with a touch of frantic energy from him, fuelled by your matching nakedness as he unclips the hook of your bra, his gentle yet shaking fingers sliding it off of your shoulders. 

The air around you both is heavy and absolutely dripping with tension are arousal, and although it's quiet in theory, the blood rushing through your ears makes it seem very different. That, and the way you pick up noises you wouldn't have before, the rustle of sheets and the way your hands sound and they slide across heated skin. 

The muscles of his abdomen tighten and jump near your hand as you run it down his navel, meeting neatly clipped hair and then the base of his dick. He surges up a bit into the kiss with a sharp with a sharp inhale as a response, finally getting relief where he'd wanted it most. 

He doesn't break away from you as you wrap around around him completely and move over his length, but his hands keep shaking when they come into contact with your sides, arms, shoulders, wherever they can touch you. 

His hips twitch and jerk up into your hand sharply when your hand tightens on each upstroke, and he audibly groans into your mouth when you press down lightly against his probably oversensitive slit. 

The sounds and unbridled movements are beautiful pieces of his resolve and stress fading away, hopefully leaving him with the ability to fade into a gentler headspace, let him give in for once. With as much as he'd gone through, and goes through, you think, it's probably well needed and deserved. 

It takes surprisingly little force for you to shift your legs and hips, unbalance him, and then use that to get him to fall onto his back. It would have made you laugh if you didn't understand that it was probably because he'd finally dropped his tense layer of high strung anxiety and careful alertness. He would have never let you do it otherwise. 

His startled little gasp as you break apart and move your mouth to his neck is more than enough fuel to keep moving down his abdomen, hovering over him on your hands and knees. 

Getting your mouth on him isn't a means to an end for him, rather just another change for you to make him feel good. You slip your hands up over his thighs and onto his hips, pressing them lightly into the mattress. You know you've made the right decision in doing so when you run your tongue over his head and his hips buck up against your hands futilely. 

Taking him into your mouth further is more pleasant than you'd have guessed, especially when his hand moves to hair, not to pull on it or push you further down, but just to run his fingers through it. He smells like himself, his cologne, and what's probably a lotion made for sensitive skin. 

The weight of him on your tongue makes you groan and the sound sends a choked noise out from Aaron's chest, as you do your best to keep your teeth out of the mix and your tongue as involved as possible. 

You feel your spit eventually make the top of you hand damp where it's now curled around what you can't reach of him to keep him steady. His chest rises and falls quickly, legs twitching and kicking out in small movements under your other arm. Moans break up gasps and the occasional keening noise slips from him as the warmth of pleasure continuously thrums through his stomach. 

His hand moves from your head, curling instead into the bedsheets so he doesn't pull at your hair. "Can I- fuck-" he's cut off again by a whine that he doesn't care enough to stifle. "Can I come? Please?" 

It's an enticing idea, but not one you're willing to give into. You look up at him finally, and his face is damp with the sweat he's worked up and his watering. You shake your head but don't let up entirely, only somewhat. "Oh my god, fucking…" His hips twitch uselessly, hands clenched so hard around bedsheets that his knuckles are turning white. 

Right before you pull off of him, he whines out a small, "Daddy-" and… oh. Oh, that's different. It doesn't make your stomach twist any differently though. When you look up he seems caught off guard by himself, face tense with worry.

In an attempt to make sure he doesn't upset himself further, you shuffle back up and settle over his hips. "I see the wheels turning in your head, petal. You can say it, call me it, it's okay. You're doing great still. Did so good for me, holding off, yeah?" 

If his face wasn't already flushed you could bet that it would have gotten darker, but instead of commenting further you find both of his hands and intertwine them with each of your own, placing them up near his head. 

You're settled directly over his cock, and if you were to sit back all the way he'd be brushing against you, warm and wet. Your eyes dark back up to his, your breathing fairly matched in pace, hair ruffled equally, lips kiss bruised and skin flushed. 

Rough inhales aren't an issue, though, as you lean in over him, nudging his face with your own, not getting close enough to re-engage with his mouth. 

"Do you still wanna fuck me, love? Come inside me like a good boy?" 

It makes Aaron's breath stutter and his hands flex in yours, and he nods quickly. "Y- yes, please, please let me…" he trails off, still shy about the words being spoken but also inexplicably turned on by them. 

Now it's your turn to not waste any time, disconnecting one of your hands from his to line him up with your entrance and then to shift your weight down. 

The pressure is overwhelming but so deeply satisfying as you sink down onto him, and it makes your mouth fall open with an unexpected gasp. He's big, but not so big that it would hurt you or make it unable to sit back on him all the way. Which is what you do, as soon as you can. 

You can feel the way Aaron's abs spasm and the way he throws his head back, and both are beautiful in their submission and abandon. 

You lean down and you aren't making any moves to connect your lips, just wanting to be closer to him and raise your hips and then drop them again, sheathing him completely and watching as what little of his remaining seriousness fell away with each groan. You take a few moments to just circle your hips, pressing your weight into his hands on the bed when you needed to, or felt like it. 

Warm tension has been building you stomach for a while now, and it's apparent that he'd felt the same as he cries out with pleasure and his hands flex and push against yours. He seems to have realised that the position means he has no control over what his hands do. "Daddy, daddy- ugh, fuck- 'm close again." 

You release one of his hands and straighten slightly to move your own hand down to circle over your most sensitive spot quickly, already close as well. "Do you wanna come, love? Ask politely." 

It's said with the most edge of anything you've said tonight but it makes him shudder, so it's worth it. "Oh my god, please? Please let me come?" His words fade off into more whines and he's clearly struggling not to tumble into his own release. 

You barely manage to get out an, "Of course, of course baby." before you're coming again around him anyway, room fading out of focus as you shut your eyes and let it wash over you, unsure if you were even making noises at that point. 

You do hear his noises though, and feel him twitch inside of you as he's finally allowed to come, back arching up lightly. His chest meets yours when you lean down to lay against his, letting his hips twitch and fuck into you through his aftershocks. 

Once he slows and his breathing becomes less tight, you move again. Untangling your hands and lifting off of him makes him whine, but you've gotta do it before he becomes too sensitive, and he probably needs to flex out his hands. 

Still floaty with post orgasm bliss, you know his has him tens of times more up in the clouds of his head, so you take his right hand into yours, and press soothing kisses along each knuckle and encourage him to stretch out that hand, and then move to doing the same to his left. 

"Just breath, love. You did so good." 

You mean it, truly, as you bend down to give his forehead a light smooch as well. 

Shifting back, you pull him up into a sitting position to wrap your hands around his middle, just resting your head against his chest as his own arms wrap around your shoulders. It should be more awkward than it is, but it's startling easy, really. 

You both sit like this until your breathing has regulated out entirely, and only then do you attempt to move away. It makes him make a small noise of disappointment but you assure him it's just go clean up a bit and then you'll be right back to him. 

You hold true to that promise, and after cleaning yourself up and peeing (it's important) you walk back into the room with a cool damp cloth, and run it over his face gently and then soothingly over too warm skin. 

All the while you run a free hand through his hair, massaging his scalp and listening to his breathing. 

"Feeling alright?" you can't help but ask and break the silence. Aaron doesn't seem too mad about it though, instead just nodding and wiggling his way closer to you sleepily. 

"Do you want me to stay while you sleep, babe?" 

You feel him nod against your side, and you sit with him as he just breathes for a moment, and then you remember your roommate. 

Oh well, there's always plenty of time to worry about such trivial things tomorrow.


	4. he talk too much, he's too chatty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for canon typical violence, Usage of "whore" and "bitch" in a derogatory manner, Essentially Reader is a badass. <3

Light streams into the room and spills across dark stained hardwood and deep blue sheets. It spreads like a warm touch over any exposed skin and seeps into imperfections in a way that nothing else can. 

The warmth itself is rousing, as is the feeling of an empty bed. 

The bed is only warm around where you lay, so it's easy to tell that it'd just been you for a while. The unfiltered sunlight drapes over your back and the back of your legs, the only skin that's free from where you're tangled in the duvet. You push yourself up, groaning as you do and your back cracks in at least two places. 

Twisting around so that your entirely free from the blanket and sheets, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and touch your feet to the hardwood. There's a note left on the bedside table, the light from the window just catches the edge of it as it glints off of a glass of water, clearly set there with the knowledge that you'd probably need it when you woke up. 

The paper feels odd in your hands first thing in the morning, but most things do, don't they, you think, as you unfold the note. 

'Sorry to leave you on your own to wake up, had to leave early for work. Can't say much, but I think we might actually get to the end of this one today. 

My number is at the bottom if you leave and want to reach out. You're also welcome to stay, if you don't feel good about leaving with what's going on.

-Aaron' 

The number is in fact scrawled at the bottom in his messy but orderly handwriting. The way his hand feels in your own flashes through your head as you imagine him writing it while you were still asleep in his bed, hopefully not snoring. 

You weren't exactly sure if you were going to stay, but for now, at least, you decided to make use of the really nice looking tub you'd seen in his bathroom last night. 

••

Exiting the bathroom reminds you of just how hot your bath had been, the air outside of the room hitting your skin in a chilly wave. 

You decide to pull on your sweats from last night and a loose dress shirt out of the walk in closet connected to the bathroom- how could you not. It's basically a right of passage if you sleep with someone who wears suits. You type in his number in your phone and snap a picture of yourself in front of the mirror with just the button up on, covering up most of what would classify it as a nude, anyway. Sending it to him with a '<3' under it feels like a clear statement that you don't want last night to be a one time thing.

Trying to really get a feel for his house, you walk around for a bit. The room closest to Aaron's on the right is clearly his sons, dinosaur themed sheets cover the twin sized bed and little figurines are set up along the kid sized desk that's against one wall. The sight makes you smile in remembrance of how lovingly he'd spoken of his son. For a second you yearn to meet him- then realize that that would most definitely be crossing a line. 

To the left of his room, a room filled with workout equipment and a closet probably used for storage. There's two other rooms upstairs as well Downstairs, but you don't enter them as their doors aren't open. Downstairs is mainly just the kitchen and living room, but there's another bathroom and then an office. As you head back upstairs to retrieve your charger you receive a text back from the number. "What if I had written my number down wrong this morning?" 

It makes you smile as you reach his door, and then you hear a sound from somewhere back downstairs. You stop and turn back around before you move back down the stairs. "Home early, then?" 

You see that he's read it by the time you reach the bottom stair. Then, the three little bubbles that mean he's typing. That's all you can see though, before there's a sickening thwack sounding through the kitchen and a sharp pain in your skull before the room goes back and you hit the ground with a thud, phone tumbling from your hand. 

You wouldn't know, but his message had read, "What do you mean? No, I'm not." 

Seconds later, another one pops up on the screen when it's being kicked away from your body. "Did you hear something? Stay in my room." 

••

Waking up for the second time in that morning isn't exactly pleasant, not when you're now propped upright in a chair with your hands tied behind it. "Oh fuck." You tug at the restraints. Zip ties. Shit. Okay. 

You're looking down and thinking heavily when something cold presses against your temple. "Head up, bitch." You obey, nostrils flaring as you struggle to keep your breathing even. The cold metal is a gun, a glock, to be exact. Odd, that someone like him would carry around a gun so often used by law enforcement. 

It's the man that Aaron should have been handcuffing by now. The one they'd actually been searching for all morning, again, not that you'd know that. 

You do your best to keep your face straight. There was almost no chance he'd actually pull the trigger- it wasn't his preferred method of ending things, anyway. "Gonna tell me your real name then? Before you kill me, that is?" 

Getting him talking is your only chance. Make it clear you know what's happening, but don't try to dissuade him from it. "No. Whores don't deserve to know it, anyway." 

You cough and it makes your head throb and the room spin a bit. Probably a concussion, then, but mild if you thought about how fast you'd woken. 

"Why am I a whore? For sleeping with you? For sleeping with the agent trying to catch you?" 

The gun is pressed against your temple harder. "No. You didn't actually sleep with me, what we had wasn't sex." 

You open your eyes to look at what's going on around you again. You're still in Aaron's kitchen, facing away from the front door and towards the man who's current intentions were to kill you. "What else would you call it then? Not rape. I asked for consent. I gave you outs. I didn't... I didn't fucking DO anything to you." 

A hint of anger and fear slips into your voice despite how hard you'd tried to not let it. He's in dark jeans and boots, as well as a hoodie. You're halfway certain the only reason you're alive is because shock and adrenaline is running through your veins. 

"So? You- you think you're so fucking powerful in positions like that. You take and you don't give back. Just like every other fucking one of the others." 

Your mouth curls into an angry scowl. "Yeah, I feel powerful. The difference between me and you is that I don't have to kill people to feel that power." 

It makes him mad, you can tell, but he lowers his gun to yell, now. "You don't fucking know a THING about me! You have no idea what I feel!" his voice is booming throughout the kitchen. 

"So what? Because I don't understand, you're gonna stab me, take my life? Like the 'others'?" 

"That's the thing, I'm gonna kill you, and your little FBI savior won't be able to do shit about it. I'll be gone, and you'll be dead." He turns around, seething, probably to grab something, and that's all it takes, really. 

A swift knee to the back of his and then he's on the ground, with a thud of his own. "Son of a bitch-" It gives you enough time from where you're now standing to bring your wrists down hard to your hip. Fuck. It doesn't break the tie. He's rising onto one knee when you try again, relief exploding across your mind as it finally breaks with a harsh snap. 

It takes all of your force and weight centered on one knee to his back to bring him all the way back down, but it works, with a nauseating smack of his chin against tile. You fall with him, right knee on his back and left on the cold floor.

"I'm not sure who the fuck told you," you start, as you grab his right arm and twist it behind his back until he lets out a pathetic yelp. You lean over him to keep that pressure against his forearm as you continue, "That I'd need a savior, but they were lying, you moronic cunt." 

You hear a car door slam closed, and then the front door being unlocked. You don't stop talking. "Your first mistake was thinking you really could get me.. Your second? Not zip tying my legs to that chair," your voice is loud, but you aren't quite yelling, you don't need to. "You don't get to have me too." You can only think about the others... those women he'd murdered in the past month. You twist further and you don't realize what you're doing until you hear a snap, and a shout, and then you're being pulled off of his back before you can do anymore damage. 

It's hard to realize who it is until you're being turned around in his arms. "Y/n? Are you hurt?" The voice is warm and clearly Aarons. You shake your head and that makes you realize, "He hit my head to get me out, probably have a mild concussion… i- holy shit… He was gonna kill me." 

Your hands seek out the sides of his arms, frantically, not able to look at his face as emotions other than adrenaline finally flood in. "Oh my God, Aaron he was gonna kill me." He lets you pull him close into an embrace, tears finally falling onto his stupid perfectly pressed suit. "I… I know, y/n. He didn't. He's being taken out of the house. He… it looks like you broke his wrist. Probably dislocated his shoulder. You're okay." 

The words don't really go further than your ears. "He was gonna kill me." Your hands shake against his back and your hair is still even a bit damp against his face. You repeat it like it's the only thing you can grasp onto as you cry. 

"He was gonna kill me. I was gonna… I was gonna be dead." 

Aaron keeps his arms around you, one hand rubbing up and down your back. "Shh," he smoothes a hand over your neck and brushes hair out of the way to do so. "You're okay, I promise. You're okay." 

You're not sure if you even hear it, much less believe it. It's nice, though, having a pair of arms to fall into. That's all your brain can register right now, anyway. 

••

The paramedics that approach you where you're sitting on one of Aarons legs get told once to fuck off, but then there's a hand on top of your thigh, and you begrudgingly tell them that they can check you out, but that you won't be moving. 

Your reactions to light and the dizziness are telling in that you definitely are concussed. They told you nothing you didn't already know, though, before they left. 

Finally calming down is harder than it seems. It takes a lot of coaxing from Aaron to get you to breathe normally, then to take Tylenol, and then to lay on the couch. You pleadingly ask him not to leave again. He agrees, and says he'll only be in the other room for a moment. 

You don't lay so much as recline, and you can't exactly get comfortable. They'd checked for any breakage of your skull or skin but had found none. It'd taken a lot of convincing for them not to send you to a doctor who'd say and do the exact same things as they had. You knew how to deal with a concussion. It doesn't make it hurt any less, though. 

In a room away, Aaron stands with his team members. "So you took her home and didn't say anything to the rest of us? That's incredibly stupid, Hotch," Rossi says from the corner he's tucked into. 

He sighs and brings a hand to his temple. "I've never divulged anything else about my sex life to you all. Why start now?" 

Spencer's the one to speak up this time. "Because she was in danger. Young, and in danger." 

Hotch's face reddens. "She was. But it's fine now, and they're legal, Reid. It wasn't like I planned it." 

"Alright, then why were they still in your house, in your clothes, with your phone number? She's nearly 30 years your junior Hotch. It's not exactly morally ethical." 

He sets a hand down on his desk as he sinks into his chair. "You think I don't know that, Spencer? I didn't mean for it to go this far. But it's what happened, and she just overpowered a man almost twice her size and is concussed, so I'm gonna handle it, and the rest of this team besides me is going to stay out of my business, alright?" 

He gets a general nod from around the room. "She refused to go to the hospital, and she's probably falling asleep as we speak. I'm staying here, you all need to follow him to the police station, get as much as you can from him to put him away. I'll send over the camera footage from the back door if there is any." 

Another general nod, and they file out of the room and into the living room. 

You look up as they arrive and stop as Hotch does. You give a weak wave, oddly fatigued. "Can I… Aaron, it's so fucking bright down here." 

He nods at his team to let them know to leave before he walks over to you. "I can pull the curtains in my bedroom, they're blackout. Would that be better?" he asks worriedly, almost like he feels a bit guilty about leaving you alone. 

You nod as you keep looking up at him. "That would be a lot better." you affirm. He helps support you all the way up his stairs and into his bed again, pulling the shades as soon as he can step away from you. 

The dim light helps aid your already existing fatigue, head throbbing now that senses are finally returning and replacing the adrenaline rush. "Will you stay up here with me?" Your voice wavers and dips a bit towards the end as a strike of nausea floods the back of your brain and twists your stomach. "I know you have to… just, bring your stuff up here and sit beside me. Just don't leave me alone." 

He nods and runs a hand over your shoulder, still clad with his shirt, before he turns and leaves the room. 

While he's downstairs, he ushers the lingering policemen out of his household, and cleans the blood of the UnSub from his kitchen floor, throwing away the broken zip tie that he finds underneath the ledge of a cabinet. 

He's not sure how exactly to feel as he does so. It was… not strange, just unlikely that you'd known how to get out of a situation like that. It just showed that you probably had taken self defense classes, as the twisting of the arm and getting the other on the ground were things primarily taught in classes like that. 

You fight sleep until he finally walks back up his stairs and settles into the bed beside you, letting you curl up by his side, twisted and low on the bed that way your head can rest on his thigh as he does what he needs to on his computer. 

You clear your throat and then wrap a hand around his knee. "Wake me up in two hours to make sure I don't have an aneurysm in my sleep." He lets out a weird scoff laugh, but murmurs an "Okay." that you barely catch before you finally let yourself drift into what would probably be an unpleasant nap.


	5. ceo; I'm savvy, respect a bitch I'm a maverick

Being woken up every two hours isn't exactly pleasant. Actually, it's being woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle, and it sucks. Of course, it's Aaron, so he's timid and oddly sweet about shaking you awake and shining a flashlight in your eyes for the first couple times to make sure you're reacting alright. 

By the time you're fully awake again, it's close to 15:00, but the room is still blissfully dark. You've moved from your previous position of Aaron's thigh up to his stomach, hand settled on one of his hips. 

You turn to lay with your forehead against his stomach, groaning. Your headache had certainly returned, and with a persistent vengeance. You can feel as well as hear him clear his throat. "So, my uh, well- my son's babysitter is dropping him off tonight, so I'm thinking about what I should do about that." 

You switch over to where you're looking up at him from his stomach. "Well, I can leave, of course. I do have a roommate, and she usually keeps me pretty much in check," you say, just trying to be mindful of boundaries. He nods, but takes his lower lip into his mouth with thought. 

It makes you hum, run a hand over his side. "You don't want me to leave, do you? Is this protective, sweet, baby Aaron's idea or alpha boss man's idea?" you tease lightly, hoping to at least rouse a smile out of the man. You succeed. Fuck yeah. 

Aaron looks down at you, still grinning. "A healthy mixture of both, I think. I just… there's an irresponsible part of my brain that isn't ready to stop being around you." It makes your stomach flip in a way that is entirely inappropriate. You should leave, probably, before you take too many steps over the line you've already crossed. 

"Well, we can be friends, right? I'm sure your son is great. I can't promise we won't do terrible, horrible, scheming things together, though," you laugh up at him, glad that he maintains his own smile. "I am closer to his ag-" 

"Nope. Stop right there," he asserts, squinting at you. "Reid thinks I'm taking advantage of an age and therefore power difference, and I can't have you furthering that idea to me." It's playful, a lighthearted seriousness. 

The only proper response is to roll your eyes, (you cringe with pain as soon as you've done it) so that's what you do. "What did I say about you thinking like that, man?" 

He laughs lightly and you can feel his stomach jumping under your head with each chuckle. "Well, you just called me 'man', so I feel like everything's gonna be alright one way or another." he speaks within breaks of his light laughter, pulling off the glasses he probably only used for reading. 

The statement makes you snort a bit. "If we're gonna be friends, you'd better get used to it, dude." 

Aaron laughs again as you slowly sit up from his tummy, keeping a hand on his hip for balance, though. 

He helps you up once he realizes that you're trying to make your way into his bathroom, and finds the tylenol in the medicine cabinet for you before he leaves you to go get ready to make dinner. 

There are, god, so many fucking lines you're crossing right now. You should have left this morning, without taking a bath, but you hadn't, and now… you were concussed and meeting a hookup's son. His SON. You're wearing his shirt, though he'd thrown the clothes of yours that were on his floor into the washer. Which feels domestic and considerate. Those aren't hookup feelings. 

You have to force yourself to shake off the thoughts and walk downstairs, it's pretty much inevitable. You walk up carefully behind him and wrap your arms around his middle, dropping your forehead on his back. The tile under your feet is cold, and unforgivingly so. He jumps a little at your touch, gasping just the tiniest bit. 

"Sorry baby," you mumble out, not lifting your head. Your hands travel down to twist your fingers into his belt loops. He's still in his dress pants, but he's down to just a white button up, one that's nearly identical to the one you still had on from the morning. The term of gentle endearment slips out in a way that is all too natural. His hum of response is low and quiet as he continues to wash the few dishes that had been sitting in his sink. 

You sigh deeply and pull back from him, boosting yourself up onto the counter, avoiding hitting your head again. 

Conversation starts as he begins making dinner, both of you doing your best to learn about the other. He asks about what you're learning in college, your family, how you ended up with your current roommate, about pets. You ask him about his job at first, but choose to steer from it after you run out of cheerful questions. It's clear the job means a lot to him though. 

His face lights up when you ask about his son again. You're told his name is Jack, and then he's delving into cute quirks and stories. The ones in which he mentions a woman named Haley he sounds a little somber, like it's a bittersweet ache to remember. It's not hard to connect dots, really. You know enough that you won't bring it up unless it's on his terms. Losing a spouse can't be easy, and it's not something you ever plan on lingering on and causing unnecessary pain. 

He also seems to struggle with thinking of hobbies he enjoys. He finally divulges that he enjoys playing the drums and guitar, but he rarely finds the time. 

You're glad that at least this point you know enough about it to not feel like you're just sitting around with someone you'd hooked up with, and much more like you were with a friend. Talking to him is easy, once he pulls himself out of the shell that he probably hides in fairly often. 

It's not long before there's a knock at the door and then Jack is bustling in with his babysitter, who you'd learned was also his aunt Jessica. He was happy, maybe even thrilled at the prospect of meeting a new friend. He greets you with a hug, not shy at all around new faces. 

Dinner went through smoothly, and Jessica had seemed happy that Aaron wasn't just hanging out by himself again. She'd said so on her way out, at least. Jack had also pulled you close and whispered about how it had been "like, forever," since Dad had brought a new friend over. Both had made you laugh a little bit, but also feel slightly honored (though that probably wasn't the right word) that he'd let you in easily. 

After dinner, and watching a movie, Aaron sends Jack upstairs to get ready for bed. Almost as soon as he does, he melts into your side again, letting out a deep breath and probably a fair amount of tension. You bring a hand up to his hair to ruffle it slightly, petting what you can reach. 

"Your son seemed ecstatic that you had a new friend. Said something about how it'd been forever since you'd brought one around," you say, turning a little so you can partially face him. 

He clears his throat and nods in thought. "Yeah, I uhm. It's been a minute since I've actually just spent time with someone." He sighs and the corner of his mouth quirks up. "That makes me sound like a loser." 

You smile in return, shaking your head. "No, I don't think so. Maybe a little old and busy, but not lame." 

"Oh, because that is so much better." He rolls his eyes and also turns to face you, watching as you smile. His eyes jump to meet yours once your hand connects with his face. There's new stubble there, and you run your thumb across it. "It is," you quietly state, "I actually think that's much better than being a recluse. I'm sure that team of yours pulls you out with them now and then, hm?" 

Aaron nods into your hand, leaning towards you instinctively. It makes your heart beat clichély faster, makes his face go a little red. 

You lean in just as slow, still smiling slightly, taking joy in how fast Aarons breath quickens. You stop maybe centimeters from letting your lips touch, fingertips tracing over his ear. 

He takes his own initiative in closing the gap between you, pushing your mouths together with what feels like no intent to go further. He's still smiling when it breaks, though. "I just- too many things have happened today, emotionally, so I don't think I want to…" he trails off, a bit like he's searching for words. He's not, he just doesn't want to say them. 

You hear a faucet turn on upstairs, and then the sound changes a bit, into what's probably a shower being turned on. "You don't wanna have sex? Aaron, you- look, there are some things that I'm okay with you being bashful about, but clarifying consent can't be one of them, alright?" You slip your fingers down from his ear to under his jaw, following the line of the bone there to his chin. He nods, face still red and heated. 

"I just don't want to assume you want something, and assume wrong, and then have to pull you through a drop, or feel like I've taken advantage of you. For all intents and purposes, I need you to be very clear about voicing that you don't want something, especially if this is gonna be a repeat thing," and you hate feeling like you're chastising him, but it is something you were wary and careful of, the number one rule of any of this. 

Consent is not a maybe, or silence, or a hesitant yes. 

Your face goes soft again when he nods against your fingers, voices a small "okay." before leaning forward to rest his head against your shoulder. 

"Mhm. You sound a little disappointed, love. Why?" You kiss the side of his head that you can reach, hand still wandering across his jaw and neck. 

"I don't really know. I still want… but…" This time, he really is searching for words to put to feelings. You bring hands down to settle them on his sides. "You still wanna be good for me, yeah? Submission doesn't have to be sexual, petal. I don't need it to be, at least." 

He shivers a bit under your hands, brings his own hands down into his lap. "After you get Jack to bed we'll spend some time taking care of you, yeah? Go help him figure out which pajamas to wear and anything else he deems incredibly important." 

Aaron nods and pushes away from you, rising to go upstairs to do just that. You follow him up the stairs and then diverge into his room, letting him go care for his son. 

It feels… good. Very much so. 

You sit on the edge of his bed, flop back onto it after a few as you wait for him to return. When he walks back in, you sit up and gesture him over to you, giving a reassuring glance when he stops just in front of you. 

"Does kneeling help you? If you kneeled for a bit, would it help you relax?" 

He gives a hesitant but thoughtful nod, letting your hand reach out to settle on one of his hips again. "Let's try it for a few, then," you say, reaching around behind you for the same pillow you'd placed onto the floor the night before. 

His eyes flicker down to it, all but begging permission. "Kneel." 

The way his knees give out to let him sink down is beautiful, as is the way the breath leaves his lungs as he does so. "There we go. You're so good for me, aren't you, baby? You listen so well." He keens a little, presses his forehead against the inside of your right knee. 

It's an invitation to thread your fingers through his hair- you take it. The way he turns to putty under your hands is nearly tangible. It's sweet, endearing even. 

The room is still and quiet save for breathing, not in a way that is uncomfortable. You let him stay where he is for a while, watching his chest rise and fall. 

When you decide to move him, it's with a little tap on his shoulder and an, "Up," that does in fact send him up onto his feet. 

Once he's back to standing, you ghost your hands up over the buttons of his shirt up to the last buttoned one. "You wanna go take a shower babe? I promise I'll do all the work for you." 

Your question is again just answered with a nod, and you honestly hadn't been expecting anything more. Silence from him was turning out to be a good sign. 

In the bathroom, he lets you undo the buttons of his shirt all the way down, tug it up from his waistband, and push it down off of his shoulders. Now that you're standing in bright enough lights, the pink of scars is raised and visible. He shivers when you trace a hand over them. Most of them seem to be the same type of injury. Probably stabbing. There are smaller ones here and there as well, too. It doesn't phase you. You'd known for a long time now that scars were just marks of the past, and that everyone had them in one way or another. 

Your hand settles on the one closest to his belt buckle. They'd clearly torn through muscle and they would have been incredibly painful. 

When you open your mouth, for a moment nothing comes out. Raising your head brings your eyes to meet his worried ones, he'd clearly been watching your hand in it's journey over his abdomen. "You're… god, you're so beautiful, Aaron." 

Clear surprise passes over his features. His inhale hitches and his own hand comes to meet yours. "They aren't- I'm not…" his voice is small, a little trembly. 

You sigh and wrap your hand partially over his, your hand not leaving his tummy still. "I think they are, and I think you are. I also think that you've spent enough time with these to know that they're thoroughly a part of you. Nothing else. Just another pretty part of you." 

You stop talking to smile in a way that you hope is reassuring, tapping his belt buckle now, having mostly let go of his hand. 

"Can I take these off so we can shower?" 

He gives a head shake in affirmation, choosing not to respond to what you'd said- it was alright. He probably hadn't ever been told that about his scars before. Well, certainly not like this. 

The shower is mainly uneventful, save for nearly getting soap in your own eye on accident and the way you swear Aaron basically purrs when you massage shampoo through his hair. He would never admit to anything of the sort, if you asked.

You don't need to wash through your hair twice in one day, but you let him take contemplative care in washing over your body. In turn, he lets you towel dry his hair and body. Once you've both pulled on sleeping clothes, (you in one of your own t-shirts from your bag and a pair of his boxers, because you'd seen how he'd looked at the idea of you in his clothes) you sit on his bathroom counter to brush your teeth, ankle hooked around the back of his knee while he does the same. He'd let you dress him too, though he'd blushed ever so slightly when you'd offered it.

It takes almost no convincing for him to let you wash his face after you'd washed your own. You thumb the cleanser carefully over his cheek bones, slowly washing off the event that was today. A giggle of yours breaks your concentration and the silence as you wash the soap out of his facial hair, using your non-dominant hand to maneuver his head around to wherever you need it. 

A simple moisturizer comes next, and his eyes are closed still as you massage it into his skin. You lean forward to gently kiss the tip of his nose before running your hands down his t-shirt clad shoulders. He was pliable, nearly crumbling into the hug you pull him forward into. 

Getting him into bed is just as easy, pulling him forward to his bed, flipping the light off. He settles into his bed, surprisingly quickly pulling you towards him, wrapping both arms around you so you end up tucked into his side. 

"See baby, it can just be this," you clear your throat, pushing a hand under his shirt to rest it against his chest to feel his heart beat. "Just get some sleep. We both deserve it." 

You're barely able to sense that he nodded, but he has, and then you're just listening as each exhale gets slower and lighter. 

These certainly weren't just hookup feelings.


	6. flexible so elastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been. very busy and stressed. this most definitely needs editing and im not too pleased with it but woo!

It's… suspiciously easy to fall into a routine without noticing. Scarily easy, actually. 

And okay, going to classes and then going to Aaron's once he confirmed he was home wasn't really a routine, except that it definitely was. 

It's not as though you don't realize the pattern but… god, there's a lot going on in the "con" side of things. Aaron being 30 years older is certainly one of them. His son, though not a con, something that you aren't sure you're ready for. It's all just a little bit scary. Thanks to Aaron's erratic schedule, you'd been spending plenty of time on the phone with him, though.

So it's not unusual to see a call notification pop up on your phone and interrupt what you'd already been doing. What is unusual though, is that Aaron sounds as though he isn't alone. He'd usually call before bed just to have someone to talk to, you'd assumed.

"Aaron? Hey. What's going on?" though you try to keep it at bay, a little bit of worry seeps into the question. 

He finally responds after calling out something unintelligible to somebody else. "Hey, it's me. I know you have classes tomorrow, but Jessica just texted me freaking out about her mom being sick, and I just-" he's rambling, and sounds a bit nervous. 

"Hey, hey. Slow down, babe, please?" you interrupt, fingers pulling absent-mindedly against the pillow held up to your chest. "I can't understand you when you're trying to push everything in your brain out to me in thirty seconds." 

You hear a shaky inhale from the other end, before he starts talking again. "Jessica's mom is sick. She can't really do anything on her own, and Jessica really doesn't want to take Jack around somebody that's sick. I know you're busy tomorrow, but I should be back around 9? You'd basically just have to handle dinner and get Jack to bed, since tomorrow isn't a school day for him." 

Pushing yourself up off of your bed to stand, you nod even though he can't see it. "You need me to watch Jack for tonight? And I can sleep in your stupidly comfortable bed? Yeah. Of course," you tease, pulling together a makeshift overnight bag. "Is there anything special I need to know? Allergies, Medicines, Intense dislikes?" 

You stumble and nearly fall over a pair of your shoes, almost ending it all on the corner of your dresser. Not really surprising. He confirms that there's nothing you need to know, and gives you the code to his door, which you already had, but, it's the thought that counts. 

"Please tell me I can just make dino nuggets and mac and cheese and like… maybe some cute fruit cut into shapes? Yeah? Great!" 

When you actually arrive at his house, Jessica's car is already parked further up the driveway, so you ensure that you've parked in such a way that she can leave. The house is warm when you pull open the door, and you hear what's probably a cartoon playing from the television in the living room. 

You call out into the home and you're greeted by a feisty Jack and a worse for wear looking Jessica. 

Crouching down to his level, he wraps his arms around you and is immediately rambling about something he'd done during the weekend. You catch "Water zoo" before you pull back and give him a questioning look.

"You do mean aquarium? Right?" you laugh at the misguided statement, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by his incorrectness, just nods happily. 

Standing back up after Jack gets some of his talking energy out, you finally turn to his aunt. "Is there anything I can do for you before you go? Or even after, if you have anything that needs to be taken care of?" 

She shakes her head, just looking tired now. "No, I just didn't want to risk him getting sick. She's got a pretty bad strain of flu, didn't want to risk him catching it and further cursing Aaron with it," she laughs a little at the end statement, walking around you to find her bag and check to make sure she has everything in it. 

Once she's left, you toe off your shoes where you stand, kicking them in the general area where shoes are supposed to be. 

Cooking dinner goes by quickly, as does helping Jack get ready for bed, since he doesn't really need help with anything, just insists on the two of you brushing your teeth together and that you have to read him some of his new library book. 

It's all too easy to comply, and before long the house is quiet again. It's a comfortable silence though, and you decide to just lay on the bed for a while, flopping down onto the soft comforter with a sigh. 

You pick up your phone, and there's nothing from Aaron, which makes sense. Hopefully he was still just wrapping things up or already back at whatever hotel he was at, and you could only hope he'd actually be getting somewhat of a good sleep before he came home in the morning. In all actuality, he's probably fretting about how you were handling things and getting all up in his head about whatever may have happened on the current case. 

It's with a hum that you thumb open your messages, sending a quick, "Can I call?" and then setting your phone back down to get more comfortable on the pillows that sit near the top of Aaron's bed. The pillow on the left smells like the shampoo he uses, so it's the one that you decide to lay on. You glance at the clock on his wall, and it ticks silently to 21:17. 

♡

In Aaron's small shared hotel room, the hands on the clock also tick to the same, yet not silently. He lays restless in between the unfamiliar sheets of the left bed, blows out a tired breath, and shifts over to the side of his bed that his phone was plugged into.

Can I call?

Aaron skips texting back and presses the call button, sitting up against the headboard as he does. 

"Hi baby, how are things going?" 

He grins, just enough so that you hear it in his voice. "Better now. I'm uh, trying to sleep, but-" he pauses, shifting in a failed attempt to get comfortable again. 

You hum a little, biting at your bottom lip. "You can't? Yeah, that's usually the case, when you're away from home, isn't it?" It's just on the edge of teasing, but mostly just a small attempt to be comforting. 

Even though he knows you can't see him, he nods before muttering a small "Yeah." 

"Are you still rooming with Spencer?" 

Another small affirmative. Which, in turn, affirms your previous thought. "So, you've been stuck with a roommate for almost a whole week?" He thinks he catches on and his stomach flutters ever so slightly. 

"Mhm, I have. He'd just gotten into the shower before you called."

You divert. "You seemed pretty stressed earlier, baby. Did everything work out okay?" 

Aaron gives a tiny sigh, then says, "Everything went great, actually. At least a lot better than we envisioned it going. I think if I start paperwork tonight then I-" 

"Nope." You cut him off through his phone speaker. "You're gonna get a good amount of sleep for me before your flight, and then you're gonna get home, wake me and Jack up, and we're gonna go, like, hang out at a park or something." 

For as smart as he was, you'd learned very quickly, he has no idea when work starts to take over his actual, human needs. He stays quiet, now. It also took very little to fluster him, something that was nice to work to your advantage, but cruel if you were just teasing. 

"You went all quiet on me, Aar. You're gonna be a good boy and get actual sleep for me tonight, right?" 

You can practically hear the blush that you know takes over the expanse of his cheeks. His voice comes through whimpery and low now. "Don't call me your… I'm not even alone, y/n." 

You smile at that, knowing you've already won. "I didn't even call you that, baby. But you know you are, hm? My good boy, always so pliant for me." 

You get a groan in return, heavy in its effort to be stamped down, though clearly he hadn't succeeded. 

"You're smart, petal, do the math for me. You haven't come in six days, and your roommate's been in the shower for… what, three? five? minutes. Can you come before he walks back in?" you ask, putting on a gentle teasing tone to push him a little bit more towards where he needs to be.

Aaron feels himself twitch in his boxers, and brings a hand down to his waistband, just slipping his hand under the elastic. "Yeah, I can, I think so? Can I try?" 

"Of course you can touch yourself for me, know how much you need to darling." 

He pushes the waistband over his hips enough to pull out his cock, letting it rest on his tummy and just running his knuckles over the vein that runs all the way down from his head. A small whimper escapes him as he does so, hypersensitive just from not having the time or being in the headspace to actually get himself off. 

The pretty sound falls well on your ears as he runs a thumb over the head of his dick, watching himself twitch in the dim lamp light. 

"Quiet baby," you say softly, not wanting to upset his mood. "Don't want anyone else to hear you, do you? Then they'd know how easy you fall apart for me." He gives a whine that almost doesn't translate through his phone speaker. "I know you don't want to stop, but can you get into the front side pocket of your suitcase? I put something in there for you in case this happened." 

Aaron sits fully up in his bed, and then kicks the sheets off of his legs to pull open his suitcase and unzip the pocket. He's still quiet, knowing how easy it would be for someone to hear him. "When did you…" he trails off as he turns over the small vibrator in his hand. "Did you buy this for me?" 

"Yes baby, I did. Take the bottle of lube with you and get back up on the bed for me, don't want to waste any more time," you tell him, listening to what you can of his movements.

He obeys quickly, heaving himself up into the middle of the bed, waiting for whatever he'll be told to do, and also already falling gently into subspace. 

"Slick yourself up, make sure you don't make a mess on your sheets," you order, listening to the soft slick sounds of him doing so, and how he lets out a soft moan at the relief it finally provides. "Take the vibe and turn it onto the first setting, set it against the bottom of your head." 

The suppressed groan in response is almost immediate, and Aaron's thighs jump and flinch closed, knocking the vibrator away unintentionally. "Can't- too much," he whines out breathlessly, holding the lowly buzzing device away from his body. 

You decide to take pity on him, knowing how sensitive he had to be. "Switch to your hand for a minute then petal." you relent. 

He sets the vibrator against his thigh in favor of keeping the hand holding his phone clean, and wraps the previously occupied hand around his cock again, falling into familiar motions, hand tight around himself. 

You listen silently to low noises and trembling hums as his hips jump up to meet his fist, which at this point he's fucking into more than moving on its own. 

"You sound so pretty, can you switch back to the vibrator for me?" 

He obliges with a groan of what's probably oversensitivity, but he can cum like this, he's done it for you before. His hips shake, but he's holding the small object against himself in the circle of his fist, watching his stomach and thigh muscles twitch with each jump of pleasure. 

"Ca- Hmm, fuck," his whispers out, voice and vibrations all too loud in the quiet of his hotel room. 

Aaron goes mostly quiet with this realization, focusing on just what he can hear from you. "My boy falls apart so easy for me, huh? If you were here with me I'd edge you until you begged me to come, and then you'd come until it hurts- should make you do that now, even," your voice stays low but his silence wavers with a small whine. "I won't though, you've been such a good boy for me this week, did everything you needed to so well." 

He gasps out a hushed, "Close-" and then does his best to still himself so he won't finish without permission- a rule you'd put into place, yet a very soft one. It made him feel better about getting himself off, anyway. 

You turn over wordlessly in his bed, making him wait for even a couple seconds was worth the drawn out, stamped down wordless plea that he gave. 

"Sorry I made you wait, love. What did you need?" It's mean. A little cruel, even. 

He removes his teeth from where they've sunk into his lower lip, "To come. Oh fuck, please, please please," he trails off into concentration again. 

You finally give in to him, "Come for me, babe. Whenever you want to." 

You only hear a gasp and a cut off breath a few seconds later, but in his hotel room, Aaron's hand has completely stilled as he comes up his chest and tummy, muscles shaking now. He quickly pulls away his hand and turns off the toy, breathing through the aftermath of a good orgasm. 

"Can you clean up and put away your stuff for me? I know you're tired but you can't let Spencer walk in to see what a mess you are for me, babes." 

Aaron actively listens, wiping himself down with a wet wipe so he wouldn't be sticky, since there was no way he was getting himself into that shower to really clean up, and then tucked away the toy to be cleaned later after quickly wiping it down as well. 

He mumbles absent-mindedly as he pulls on comfortable sleeping clothes, resting back against his pillows. 

"I'll text you when I wake up?" Aaron says it like it's a question, like he's too afraid of whatever response he'll get to just say it. 

You smile, hoping that it bleed through the phone. "If you're sure you're alright, you can go ahead and pass out. And of course. I might not answer it, but I'll see it as soon as I wake up, okay?"

There's a slight rustling as he nods with the softest of smiles, but then gives a verbal affirmation when he remembers you can't see him. 

"Goodnight, baby. Call me if you need me. I'll always answer." 

"Mhm. I will."


End file.
